


Burning Up

by orphan_account



Category: Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 16:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Taron has no idea what he's doing, but Richard is more than happy to talk him through it.





	Burning Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hangmans_Radio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hangmans_Radio/gifts), [WritingYay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingYay/gifts), [wordsoverflow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsoverflow/gifts).

> for Hangmans_Radio, because she is the most wonderful muse, whether she realises it or not. And for WritingYay and wordsoverflow, because I am a terrible commenter but they write such beautiful Taron/Richard fic that I was almost painfully inspired, and they deserve SOMETHING for their troubles.  
Totally unbetad, I'm sorry! If you spot something, please point it out, and please pleaseplease leave prompts! Gotta get those creative juices flowing!

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Taron laughs, slicking his fingers up messily. He’s struggling to remember how they got here, but he does remember several alcohol-induced confessions and a late-night Facetime before Richard had turned up on his doorstep with kebabs and lips so far past kissable that Taron hadn’t been able to resist for a moment longer. He also knows, for certain, that this is all Jamie’s fault for making him _talk about his feelings _in the first place, but really, it couldn’t have gone any better.

Taron rubs one fingertip against Richard's hole, and Richard hisses and arches into it. 

"That..." he sighs, feeling his hole twitch happily under the attention. "Keep doing that, s'good..."

Taron laughs again, the sound soft and warm as honey.

"I’ve only ever been with girls before..." he admits, his eyes focused on the way Richard's body is fluttering beneath the pad of his finger. "N'they don't exactly need all this... preparation..."

It's Richard's turn to laugh out loud at that, his eyes sparkling. In his experience, girls as a horrific generalisation needed a whole lot more _preparation_ before they'd fall into bed with you at all. Although, Richard supposes, anyone faced with the full force of Taron Egerton's cheeky, gap-toothed smile was already on a slippery slope. He should know. 

"I've been with guys before," Taron clarifies, sounding distracted with how intently he's staring at the way Richard's body is reacting to his touch. "Just not like.. this..."

"I feel so honoured," Richard teases sarcastically, then yelps when Taron pinches his arse cheek in retaliation. “What, you’ve never fingered yourself before?”

It’s a filthy question anyway, but it sounds even filthier in Richard’s thick brogue. Taron shakes his head.

“Nah… rubbed a bit, but never much fancied sticking anything inside.”

Richard laughs in a long huff of breath, his thigh beginning to spasm under Taron’s slow, insistent attention. “Ya’ missin’ out, T.”

“Apparently so…” Taron breathes softly, and eases his finger inside, Richard’s body opening up easily for him. Richard sucks in a breath and holds it, presses his toes into the sheets tangled at the end of the bed, and his eyes flutter closed.

“Oh…”

“Yeah?” Taron asks, glancing up from the way Richard’s body is pulling him deeper with every breath. His eyes are bright and excited, just a little bit pleased with himself, and it’s exactly the look Richard fell for in the first place.

“Yeah.” Richard clarifies, and Taron feels his muscles clench tightly around him in agreement. “Deeper, c’mon. I’m not gonna snap, promise.”

Taron huffs out a laugh that sounds more like a gasp, pressing his mouth to Richard’s thigh.

“You won’t, but my finger feels like it might,” he teases. Richard would kick him if his skin wasn’t beginning to burn with desire. Jesus, all Taron’s done so far is put a finger inside him, one single finger, and Richard's ready to fly out of his skin with want.

“Shut up,” he grouses, taking a deep breath to try and relax himself. “And gimme another. Make me feel it, T, c’_mon_.”

Taron’s groan sounds like it’s punched right from his gut and he presses his forehead to Richard’s belly, his eyes closing. “Fuck, Rich, you can’t just-”

Richard laughs, the sound even deeper and smoother and richer than normal, but it stutters off abruptly when Taron eases a second finger in, slick with lube and pressing in and in and _in_, steady and sure as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

“_Shit_,” Richard gasps. Pleasure bursts beneath his skin as Taron curls his fingers up towards Richard’s navel, able to get deeper like this, and skims over Richard’s prostate as if he’d been aiming for it. “Thought you said you hadn’t- nnh, _Taron_… hadn’t done this before…”

Taron grins up at him, a picture of smug satisfaction. “I’ve done it to _girls_ before… Apparently it’s not all that different after all…”

Richard groans and rocks down onto Taron’s fingers. “You’re such a- a smug little shh..._it_...”

Taron hums. “Mmm... you wouldn’t have me any other way...”

Richard laughs fondly, the sound catching in his throat, and doesn’t deny it. They’re quiet after that, in as much as they aren’t speaking, anyway; Richard’s breath hitches and shudders as he begins to leak over his stomach, the sheets rustle beneath his fingers and Taron’s soft sighs of approval echo as if he’s shouting them from the rooftops. Everything feels louder, brighter, _better_, the heat of Taron’s breath ghosting over the paper-thin skin of Richard’s inner thigh and the tickle of his stubble that follows, the prickle of his gaze as he stares, utterly mesmerised by the way Richard’s cock keeps twitching and oozing streak after streak of come as if he’s having an orgasm that just keeps on going, and the tight, throbbing pleasure in Richard’s groin as Taron milks his prostate just a little too fast and with a little too much force so that everything feels impossibly intense but so, _so_ fucking good that Richard feels like his body is going to give out before he ever peaks.

Without warning, Taron shifts. Just barely, just enough to work out the beginnings of a cramp along the back of his hand, and Richard _feels_ it, feels the orgasm on the back of his tongue and in the pit of his stomach, building with a sudden speed that takes him by surprise.

“Oh- there, _there_, oh shit, T, keep doin’ tha'...”

Taron’s look of wide-eyed wonder curls around the edges, almost a smirk but not quite, just terribly, terribly pleased with how things are progressing, and Richard fucking hates him, except he really doesn’t, does he, he fucking _adores_ him with everything he has, and with a start he realises he could quite easily fall in love with Taron, if given half a chance. Richard comes with that thought at the forefront of his mind, pleasure bursting inside him and arching him clean off the bed with a cry.

His mouth hangs slack and his eyes are scrunched so tight it looks painful, and Taron thinks it’s possibly the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen before. He massages Richard’s prostate right through the heavy spill of ejaculate and out the other side, until the other man is gasping at him to stop, and even then, Taron keeps it up for just a little longer, entranced by the way Richard’s body jerks and twitches with the force of the over-stimulation. It’s stunning, the way the muscles of his stomach clench and ripple whenever Taron’s fingers catch just right, glistening with sweat and release.

Eventually, Richard bats him away forcibly and Taron relents with a chuckle, wiping lube-damp fingers on the corner of the duvet (which Richard will probably kill him for later) before he crawls up Richard’s body to kiss him, slow and warm and sweet. His erection is heavy but his arousal is at a low simmer, surprisingly sated by Richard’s own release. They melt into the sheets together, Taron with an arm and a leg slung over Richard’s orgasm-soft body, until Richard’s hand creeps closer and curls around Taron’s dick. Taron hums his approval and ruts lazily into Richard’s grip while he sucks up an impressive lovebite on the other man’s throat. It starts as a simple kiss, but the closer Taron gets, the more desperate the pull of heat in his belly, then the more force he uses until he’s keening with it and practically chewing on Richard’s neck as he tumbles over the edge and paints Richard’s belly with his own come.

“_Fuck_…” Richard hisses, as Taron carefully removes his teeth. His tongue tastes coppery, like he’d come awfully close to breaking the skin.

“Sorry,” Taron mumbles, but he’s too satisfied right now for it to have much empathy behind it. Richard huffs with silent laughter and squeezes him closer, so he can’t mind _that _much.

“Y’little vampire.” He mutters back, kissing Taron’s forehead. “Jamie’s gonna have a fuckin’ field day when he sees that.”

Taron full-on giggles, still feeling a little loopy, his fingers playing over the soft smattering of hair on Richard’s chest. “He’s going to be impossible. He’s been trying to get us together since the day we met, and now he’ll think he’s some kind of real-life cupid.”

“Pssh,” Richard smirks. “Only if we tell him it was you.”

In the end, despite their plan to lie to Jamie for shits and giggles, they don’t even get to say a word before he’s crowing with delight and throwing his arms around their shoulders. Richard looks down at Taron over Jamie’s head while their third chatters delightedly between them, and between them they pick him up and carry him bodily across the set towards the pool. It takes Jamie a beat too long to realise their final destination, and by the time he starts to laugh and struggle between them, it’s too late.


End file.
